Last Call To Sunday
by Christoph Andretti
Summary: Matthew, Eliza, and Gilbert have always been the best of friends. They live in the almost-hood of Los Angeles, making their ways in the world. One day, their lives change forever as a nuclear missile obliterates everything around them. Now they are in a race against time to procure their own slice of peace and sanity in this destructive world.
1. Chapter 1

Matthew Williams sat in between the intravenous fluids pumping into the wheelchair-bound lady and the half-shaven glare of the Hispanic businessman clunking his briefcase on his legs. The line stretched through the peeking rays of the sun sneaking over the horizon of downtown Los Angeles, The white Apple logo pasted on the clear window showcasing an array of blinking colors and cardboard cutouts of phones. Matthew shivered as the quiet breeze accelerated through the funneling buildings escalating towards the rose and purple neon blanketed sky. He pulled on his brown jacket and wrapped himself inside of it. A ringing tone beeped as a man opened the colossal transparent doors and waved the line in.

"One at a time." He said as the line bustled inside. The man turned to the black security guard next to him. "Stop after 50."

Matthew overheard and breathed a sigh of relief. He was easily one of the first people in line. Important, considering this was his job. Matthew works as a professional line sitter. He is payed by people to wait in line for various items, and bring the product to the individual that would rather waste someone else's time on something that would go obsolete in six to nine months.

Matthew wasn't complaining. It kept beer in the fridge and the part of his rent in shape. He skipped inside and made a beeline towards the back of the store, where a small white box waited for him. He looked around at the scrambling shoppers around him; dictated by the giant lit logo watching over them like a mechanical god.

"Can I help you?" A frail old lady said at the counter."

"I'm here to pick up for Allison." Matthew said as he handed her the receipt.

"Are you her husband?" She asked.

Matthew grimaced and showed her his ring less hand.

"Then are you related?"

"Nope. This is business."

"I'm gonna need more confirmation than that." The lady said.

Matthew sighed. "I'm a line sitter. I just hold the line for her."

"A what?"

"A line sitter. I'm paid to sit in line for people."

"Is that your job all day?"

"Sorry ma'am, but jobs are tough nowadays."

The lady looked at her computer, shifting her eyes to the flimsy receipt while she pounded keys on the board.

"Sorry, but you have to call up 'Allison'." The lady said as she air-signaled quotation marks.

"She's very much real, ma'am." Matthew said quietly. The two stated at each other. The lady remained skeptical as she tapped on the gleaming counter. The noise of the people in the store rose to a steady roar like the chirping of birds in a jungle.

"How about I throw in an extra 50 for you?" Matthew asked.

The lady stepped back. "A-are you bribing me?"

"I give you a few coupons, too." Matthew's face reddened as his quiet voice quivered.

* * *

"Don't tell me you don't like it at least a little."

"Fine. I won't. But Let it be know that I don't like it."

A paste white man with shining white hair sat at the circular wood table and narrowed his ruby eyes with contentment. "That's exactly what someone who hasn't seen it would say."

A women dressed in a loose yellow shirt and charcoal pants scoffed as she adjusted her cascading brown hair. "I need to get on the road. I don't want to hear another word about My Little Pony, or anything for that matter, from you until I get back."

"No texts or calls until four?"

"Exactly. You'll miss me so much that maybe you can be submissive so I don't get a migraine."

"Oh Lizzie, we both know why you prefer me submissive."

Elizabeta Hedervary took a slightly mushed orange from a metal holder at the center of the grey counter and flung it at the man's head, making him groan as he patted the impact spot.

"Snowflake." Elizabeta said as she walked out the door.

As she slammed the screen door behind her, she looked out at the quiet street hazed in the mid-morning glow raining down on the city around her. She walked to the cracked driveway and felt her way around the old dirt bed of a rose garden towards her final destination: a blue and yellow taxicab.

Inside the house, Gilbert Beilschmidt fumbled with his warm beer bottle left out from the night before. He dropped off the chair at the table and leapt over the couch as he sprawled his frame over the cool faux leather with the sun's rays touching his feet hanging over the edge of the couch. Just as he was about to click on the wide-screen plasma television, he felt a vibration in his sweatpant's pocket. Gilbert groaned as he yanked the smartphone out. After seeing the screen, he bucked up slightly.

"Is something the matter, Frau?" Gilbert said.

"Please Don't call me that. Anyway, Eliza texted me a few seconds ago. She said the construction site was shut down for some sewage explosion or something, so you have the day off." Matthew said.

Gilbert groaned. "Sorry Matthew, but my slate is covered for the day."

"And what do you suppose that would be?" He asked.

"First, I'm going to actually catch An episode of the price is right. Then, I think I'm going to splurge and head to that Dodgers game today. After that, it's Vargas Cafe and Bar for me."

"Or you could cover the second line for me so I can go to Vargas's once in a while." Matthew said.

"Calm down, Birdie. You still get Saturdays off. Gotta go."

Gilbert hung up the phone and plopped the phone onto the cushion next to him. He sighed in contentment as he reached for the button-laden monolith. He snatched the remote and smashed the red power button on. However, Gilbert was unprepared for the image on the screen. In front of him were rainbow bars running over the television. He cursed, and he switched to different inputs on the remote. It seemed that the screen was stuck.

* * *

Meanwhile, Elizabeta drive down the smooth street through downtown Los Angeles. The Doors blared out from the speakers around her, with "Love Her Madly" dancing around her. Her eyes lowered in fatigue as she clutched the steering wheel with one hand. She switched on the air conditioning with the free hand, letting the cool air combat with the rising temperatures in the thick air swirling around her head.

She sees two men with briefcases waving their hands with the speed of a moth's wing. Elizabeta veered over a lane, cutting off the limousine that blared out its horn. She lurched to a halt at the curb, and the two men piled inside.

"Hello, gentlema-."

"Lehman Memorial Bank. 19th and Wisconsin."

Elizabeta nodded as she threaded the gas pedal and made her way onto the wide road. She pointed her car straight as she barreled down the cement expanse. The taxi blended in with the small sea of red sedans and orange Cadillacs with the heat bearing down and pressing the early morning chill into oblivion. She glanced in her mirror. The two men were as stiff as a wooden board. Their eyes were bloodshot with dark circles surrounding their eyelids. One of them breathed heavily, like he had run a mile to get to the taxi stop. Elizabeta slowed down and stopped at an intersection. A bus zoomed in front if her as a cloud passed overhead, protecting them from the hard glare for a few seconds. She stared at the sky over the horizon blocked by towering apartments and condominiums.

One of the men cleared his throat. "Can you make a right?"

Elizabeta turned to face them. "I can't really do that." She pointed at the wall of a Volkswagen next to her.

"I'll give you an extra hundred."

"I can't do it. Sorry."

The old man sighed as he tapped the shoulder of the younger man. He leaned in and whispered something as he nodded.

The rest of the ride was uneventful. Elizabeta looked out at the world around her. A couple of joggers ran away from the direction of her car. An old lady with obviously blonde dyed hair walked her white Pomeranian. A few businessmen and women were typing away outside of the Starbucks by the small tent a homeless man slept in. Another baby in a stroller, and another day of cooking in the hot late-spring sun.

They reached the bank. The taxi stopped at the corner of the sidewalk right behind a red Lamborghini. The two men started to climb out of the car. Elizabeta gasped as she leaned towards the open window on the passenger side.

"Excuse me. That's sixteen dollars." Elizabeta said.

"Lady, we have to go." The two men started to escape up the stairs.

Elizabeta launched the stick shift into the parking slot, and she rocketed out of the cab. She ran to the open window on the other side, and pulled down the glove compartment to take out a mini-bat hidden underneath the stack of insurance papers.

"Assholes. You stay right there." She yelled.

The two men stopped and turned around. Their faces grew into shock as a fuming Elizabeta ran towards them. The men scrambled up the steps as the security man at the door hopped down to the bat-wielding Hungarian women. Elizabeta stopped as the security guard out his shoulders in the two escaping men.

"Hold on there. What's going on?" The guard asked.

Elizabeta pointed at the two men with her bat. "They're not paying me. And they tried to bribe me on the ride, so I know they have some.

The guard pushed the two towards her. "Give her the cash."

The older man took out his wallet and flung it at her, making her glare at the two men as they scrambled away and disappeared through the large mirror doors of the building. Elizabeta threw her hands up and crouched down to pick up the wallet. Her emerald eyes scanned the area around her, searching for any hint or idea of this being some inane practical joke. All she heard was the rumble of the pack of automobiles sauntering past and the whispering wind snaking around her.

* * *

Gilbert had absolutely nothing to do. After the freak sewage leak at the construction site, he knew he would be off for a few days. He actually had some plans. For some reason, he felt a little uneasy. There was something odd brewing in the out if his stomach, like a knot had grown and surrounded his intestines. However, he momentarily forgot as he saw a certain Hungarian women kick open the door of the cafe, knocking the bell off of the thine rope it was on.

"Hey Bella. Gilbert's at the corner." A shorter man with chestnut hair and a long curl on the side of his head said.

"Thanks Feli. Did you get Lovino in that maid uniform yet?"

Feliciano nodded. "I snuck a picture, too. I'm using it for the promo posters of the restaurant."

Elizabeta giggled as she strode to the corner of the room, where Gilbert had a smug grin. She sat down and took a sip of his undrunk water, abandoned for a nice bottle of beer.

"You're really going to bother my lunch break for the cable, aren't you?"

Gilbert cackled. "Your third of the bills are electricity and cable. You could use that cab fare you get. But, no! Somebody wants to be morally correct."

Elizabeta scoffed as she adjusted her disheveled hair. "I would be more organized if you weren't demanding so much attention. Anyway, you still owe me for bail."

Gilbert playfully nudged her with his large hands. "It's been three years. Just admit that I'm never paying you back. Anyway, you should skip out on work and come to the game with me."

Elizabeta leaned and scooted over the red leather seat towards Gilbert. "I'd love to, Gil. Sadly, someone has to pay for the house. And it's not Mister Ex-Stoner, either."

"Matthew is a stoner, thank you. No ex about it."

"Speaking of work, this strange thing happened to me. I picked up a couple of...official looking guys. Everything was fine, but they seemed nervous. Then, one of them tried to bribe me to cut across an intersection. The worst part is that, when I got to their drop-off, they tried to bolt."

"Shit Lizzie. That's twice this week."

"Some security guard stopped them. The older one threw his wallet at me, and they took off. He just threw his wallet away." Elizabeta took out the wallet and plopped it on the table. Gilbert reached for the wallet like a mouse sneaking up on a piece of cheese. He felt the cool Leather skin and dragged it over the grease-stained wooden table. He picked it up, and fumbled through the folds, pulling out a couple hundred dollar bills.

"Holy shit. Guy had big money. Why wouldn't he pay you?"

Elizabeta frowned. "Check his ID."

Gilbert pulled out a white card that carried the phase of the man. "Jeffery Payne. Department of a Homeland Security. So what?"

"Where you dropped as a kid, Gilbert?" Elizabeta asked.

"Why'd you think my eyes are naturally this way?" Gilbert responded.

Elizabeta rolled her emerald eyes. "Why the hell would a man from there go to a bank?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Maybe there's a meeting. Can we move on to the cable now?"

Elizabeta reached across the table and put her small, calloused hands on Gilbert's muscled arm. "I already payed it. I'm not a freeloader, thank you." She said as Gilbert grew a smirk and narrowed his eyes.

"You're calling me a freeloader. I guess you forgot about living in my house for a good six months when we were 16."

"Sorry that I was covered in soot from what was left of my-."

"Pizza, potato bastard." A man donning a permanent scowl slid a deep dish pie covered in pineapple onto the table. He crossed his arms as he sighed.

"You're not gonna do the chant for us, Romano?" Gilbert chided.

"My birthday is exactly six months from now. And you owe me for last year." Elizabeta said with a smirk.

"No. Anyway, stop shouting. Feliciano is giving me a headache enough already."

"What for?" Elizabeta said as she sunk her teeth into the thick slice.

"Cable's out. I guess the whole neighborhood is if yours is out, too."

Gilbert frowned. "Is there a screen with colored bars and a long buzzing noise?"

"That too. It's more annoying than hearing you three at night."

Coughing was heard as Elizabeta nearly choked on a long piece of cheese. "We haven't done anything of the sort for months now. And we always close the windows before."

"Lizzie, can we go to the house quickly? There's some things I need to do."

Gilbert was slapped on his shoulder by the annoyed girl across from him. "I have to go to work, Gil. You can finish yourself off."

Gilbert hopped up in his seat. "Not like that, dummy. But, that's an option, too. I need to check something, though."

"Still paranoid from that prank? I thought we made up for that."

Gilbert slid out of the chair and grabbed Elizabeta's arm. She gasped as she was hoisted to her feet and practically dragged out the door. Romano yelled in the background.

"Idiotas! You need to pay."

Gilbert winked and waved as he ran towards the shared home, with Elizabeta in two as he gripped her hand. They spotted the nicely cut lawn and ran over the maze of cracks on the driveway up to the screen door. Flinging it open, Gilbert ran to the laptop on the counter as the television continued to buzz in the background. The house smelled of marijuana and lavender permeating from the air fresheners crowding the power outlets in the room. Cluttered stacks of notebooks, binders, and a few candy wrappers littered the hardwood floor as Elizabeta kicked of her shoes and skated over the ground, chuckling as the breeze flew around her. Gilbert massaged the keys on the laptop as he brought up a news website.

"Gilbert, why the hell was I dragged from free food?" Elizabeta said as she crossed her arms.

Gilbert kept looking at the screen with a rare stern expression plastered on his face, one of curiosity and, unbelievably for Gilbert, nervousness. "Really? You thought I was paying for that? Anyway, I just find it ver...uh...Lizzie? Stay close to me, alright?"

Elizabeta looked quizzically at the Prussian man. "Gil, what's wrong? You're being weird."

Gilbert started to open his mouth, but a dreadful buzzing noise blared from the speakers surrounding all corners of the room. It went on and off, and Elizabeta looked at the screen just as a robotic voice came out.

"This is an emergency alert message from the United States government. This is not a test. A nuclear missile has been detected in an Unknown location in Asia, and is heading towards the Los Angeles Area. Detonation is expected to occur in the next hour. All residents within a 350 mile radius must take shelter underground immediately. If there is no fallout shelter, go as far underground as possible, and place as many walls and objects between you and the nearest window as soon as possible. Please hold for a message from the president."

The incessant beeping continued. So did Gilbert's stammers of disbelief.

* * *

**Hello Ladies and Gentleman. Welcome to this new story. If you have any suggestions, please leave a review or pm and tell me. Comment, concerns, insults, and injuries are all welcome. Thank you, and see you soon. **


	2. Riders On The Storm

Matthew hated walking alone. Granted, he enjoyed silence. His two best friends since kindergarten were not very cordial or silent ever. He admitted that he appreciated that about them, but he wasn't exactly hyped about coming back to the house today, considering Gilbert would probably force him to go drinking, play football, or both at the same time. They actually tried that one time, and Gilbert never saw that old scion coming from the intersection outside the park gate.

Matthew loved Elizabeta and Gilbert. He would take a bullet for them, but man, they were more annoying at times than I small child with a foghorn. Speaking of which, why was a foghorn blaring out from around him?

They didn't live in the greatest place, but even the hood never had this loud sound. No, this must be heard all over Los Angeles. Suddenly, Matthew's chronic nervousness kicked in. He hightailed himself the last block to the house, letting the same cookie-cutter ramshackle houses run past the corner of his eye. He heaved a breathe of air and slammed the door behind him just as he saw Gilbert dragging out a suitcase.

"You guys got in another fight?" Matthew said with a soft smile. His face dropped however as he saw the reddened corneas of Elizabeta gathering up a mountain of clothes in her strong arms as she dumped them in another suitcase. She looked up at Matthew and gasped loudly. Matthew was taken aback just as Elizabeta crashed into him, lifting him up in a bear hug.

"You damn hoser, or whatever the hell they call them in Canada. We called you eight times."

"What is going on here?" Matthew said as the air in his lungs were trapped inside him. Elizabeta barked an apology, and she plopped him down onto the floor.

"Both of you, shut up. Your highness is coming on." Gilbert said as he pointed his eyes towards the screen. He moved to the sofa as Elizabeta put her hand on Matthew's back and prodded him towards the television. The three of them took their seats on the couch. On the screen, the president was seated in a large room with an American flag standing next to him and a grey wall contrasting with his balding head. Two military guards were positioned at the wall, one on each side of the president at attention.

"Good Afternoon citizens of the United States. Until now, we have always had a trustworthy world policy that has protected us and strengthened the use of our national security. However, one of the fears that we have had for so long has finally been realized. I can now confirm that there are nuclear missiles that are targeting the west coast of the United States."

Matthew's breathe hitched. He felt a sudden shiver of disbelief course through his bones. He turned to Elizabeta. As resolute and brave as she was trying to be, she still could not hold back the steady stream of tears boiling down her face. Matthew took one of Elizabeta's hands in his smooth one, and squeezed it softly. Gilbert had conceded from simple handholding and put his whole arm around her, pulling her close to himself.

The president continued to speak. "The targets are uncertain, but most likely the Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, and Portland areas in one-and-a-half hours. I strongly recommend that everybody take shelter. With basic and necessary precautions, the chances of survival are exponentially increased. Please go to the nearest fallout shelter, or as underground as possible. Let it be known that many lives will be lost, but hope and prayer will not be. Even though America will be bruised and battered, we will not be crippled, and we can work in unity to build from any ashes a stronger and even better future as the sun continues to rise on this great nation. Thank you. God Bless you, and God Bless the United States of America."

Elizabeta's Sniffles evaded Matthew's ears as Gilbert rose up and moved towards the sliding doors that led towards the rectangular grass oasis in the back. He saw a pair of military helicopters zooming over the horizon, and also the foreboding gunshots escaping into the air with a few shouts of nervousness permeating in the warm air.

"Gil, we need to go." Elizabeta put on a brave face and shot up from the couch. She immediately ran across the small living and dining room and disappeared into the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Matthew started to bite his fingernails into nubs, like one if the wasps outside weathering away the skin of a pedestrian. He scanned the room as the television came back to life; this time with an announcer sitting behind a red desk. Matthew didn't pay attention to that, however. He was more concerned about what to do now. He was never very decisive on matters. Indeed, he was practically dragged from his quiet neighborhood in Ontario to the nearby hood of Los Angeles, all because the foreign kids from down the street grew up and actually noticed him, unlike almost everyone else in the town. He was also concerned for the Vargas family. They had quickly become his only new friends in this place. Gilbert saw Matthew's shocked inactivity, and took one of his muscular arms to lift him to his feet.

"Get your things. We need to get as far away from here as we can."

"We need to find a shelter." Elizabeta shouted as she ran back with another brown suitcase bulging out.

"Do you know where a shelter is?" Gilbert asked.

"Of course not. But what about the cops. Ask them."

"They won't do shit. Don't you realize that everything's under martial law now? Anyone with a gun could be considered a cop now. I wouldn't go to-."

"Guys, I think we sh-."

"Hold on a second, Mattie," Gilbert said. "I was saying that I wouldn't go to a shelter even if I knew where it was. I'm not going to suffocate with some old lady's sweat embalming me. And I sure as hell am not rotting slowly from fallout."

"We can at least figure out what to d-."

"You hosers, shut up."

The two arguers stopped and whipped their head towards Matthew, whose face flushed slightly. "Stop arguing. You're making things worse. We need to stick together. If you two argue, then I have to go out there on my own. So, we need to figure out what we're doing. And splitting up is not an option. You know you're the smartest one here, Eliza. For once, though, I have to agree with Gil. Even if we don't make it, at least it'll be quick. I'd rathe-."

"Don't say things like that. It freaks me out even more." Gilbert said.

"But it's true. If all of this is real, then we need to just get away. It's either guarantees survival until we battle it out against other people in there, or we get away from fallout."

"Or we all die in a blaze of glory." Elizabeta said sarcastically.

"Gilbert couldn't help but muster a chuckle. "If there's anything that should take me out, it's a nuclear bomb."

"Missle. And none of you are allowed to talk about death until it's already happened to us."

"So should we vote on this?" Matthew asked.

"Hell no. We already know you two would win. Let's Rock Paper Scissors it. Winner gets to decided what to do next." Elizabeta said.

"Mutually assured destruction is a game to you now?" Matthew asked. He sighed before thrusting his hand out at the other pair of hands in the small circle. They shook their fists up and down, and threw out their hand shapes. Elizabeta got paper, while Gilbert and Matthew took scissors.

"Well, we both have the same idea. Off to the races." Gilbert said as he charged out the screen door with a pair of bags in hand. Matthew ran to his room to collect his things, and Elizabeta checked her bags before running out the door.

Outside, the streets were flooding with stragglers looking for shelter or some sort of sanctuary. There was a wave of screaming and running as a mass of people drove by at top speed, scaring some people into diving away from the road before going into it again like fish sailing down a river. The loud siren continued to buzz, and more helicopters shredded the sky from above. Elizabeta shook her head of the site and stumbled towards the taxi, where Gilbert sat inside on the passenger side of the front. Elizabeta threw her bags in the trunk and hopped to Gilbert.

"Where's Mattie." Elizabeta asked.

Gilbert poked his head out the window. "He's still packing?"

"Where else would he be?"

"Leave him. He'll bog us down."

Elizabeta slapped Gilbert on top of his head and slid over the banana front of the taxi can before twisting herself through the doorway into the car

She turned the ignition to the right, and the car buzzed to life. As soon as the engine rumbled in place, Matthew came out with a large duffel bag and something else in hand.

"Your bringing your bong?" Elizabeta asked.

Matthew threw his bag in the back and shunted his bong through the window before climbing into the minuscule seat. "It's important to keep a clear mind. Let's go."

Elizabeta groaned as she reversed the car onto the street and rocketed down toward an intersection. The small side road they were on was completely deserted. However, the squealing honks and shrieks of a mob bundles together as the neared the crossroads of the side road and the four-lane avenue past Downtown.

"Shit. We forgot the map." Gilbert groaned.

"What do we need a map for? We're going west, right? Elizabeta asked.

"I-10 is covered in abandoned cars. We need side roads." The car slid towards the right and headed down another street. Gilbert and Matthew held on to the handles on the padded ceiling above.

"Use your phone." Elizabeta said.

"Again, the service is clogged up."

"Then try. We gotta get through this."

Gilbert opened up the glove compartment. His face lit up as he saw the paper leaflets bound together by a thin rubber band. Shanking it off, he dropped all the maps until he spotted the right one. "Got some maps," he said before unraveling the atlas. He examined the beige colored landscape of Southern California. A long finger traced a few routes, and Gilbert's eyes widened.

"We need to try 278. It'll take us to Phoenix."

"Guys, Phoenix is like 300 miles away. We can't make that in an hour." Matthew said.

Elizabeta stomped harder on the gas pedal and drifted across another intersection to make a left. "We just need to get far. Even 50 miles should be good." She said.

"Do you eve-." Gilbert started.

"I know how a nuclear missile works." Elizabeta shouted.

"Everybody please calm down." Matthew said.

"Well, look at the hipster talking. Maybe you should pass that bong around so we can at least suffocate happy." Gilbert said.

"I'm not a hipster. These are prescription glasses." Matthew pointed at the thin-rims.

The taxi kept zooming until Elizabeta slammed on the break. A wall of people were running in the streets, and cars littered the streets like the gum wrappers and newspapers kicked up by the riot. The three of them gaped at the people. It seemed that their journey was as fruitless as if they were on foot. Suddenly, Elizabeta scowled, and she slammed on the gas, making the car hitch forward before barreling towards the crowd.

"You're gonna hit them." Matthew said as he Dug his fingernails into the leather seat.

"They'll get out of the way." Elizabeta said. Sure enough, people saw the path the taxi was making, and they leapt out of danger. The taxi cab snakes through the crowd and the abandoned cars, turning completely sideways at times before being spun back on course.

"How the hell is this can doing this?" Gilbert yelled. Elizabeta actually smirked as they continued down the long stretch of road. After traversing the street, they made another turn, this time by a sign directing them onto the predetermined road. People were running towards them, so it made the driving tougher.

"Gilbert, turn on the radio."

"For news? It's the same messa-."

"For my music. I still have CD's. Damn it. I forgot my old records. We have to turn back."

"Are you insane?" Gilbert shouted.

"Just kidding. I think The Doors are still on there. 'L.A. Woman', please."

Gilbert moved a shaky finger towards the radio and mashed the play button. After adjusting the volume, the steady rhythm of the song parade around the cab as the tax, by some miracle, exited the downtown area.

"Okay, there aren't as many cars around. I guess a lot of people went to the shelter after all."

"Which we should have gone to, you Schweister."

"Please! Stop making up German. Keep your eyes on the road and hand on the wheel." Matthew said.

"That's 100% German, right Gil?"

"Just drive. We don't know how long till another batch of people come along." Gilbert said.

Elizabeta frowned while she slightly leaned herself towards the wheel. Matthew adjusted his legs, groaning as he fought with the small black prison surrounding him. The backseat prevailed, and Matthew was sprawled on the seat like a bar patron who lost at poker. In all honesty, Matthew was shocked. He woke up and do his work, and now he was a passenger in the taxi of death while running from a nuclear missile. Matthew looked at the back window, and the buildings in the rear view mirrors shrunk like the sponges the Vargas family used at the shop. He hoped they were alright. He wanted one last piece of pizza from them before certain doom.

Behind them, a clear sky was melded with the ash-laden clouds of smoke from small cars and buildings on fire. Matthew wanted to cry, but he'd sooner shoot himself than cry in front if his best friends. Especially when they seemed so strong right now. He breathed slowly, promising himself that he would only cry when someone else did.

Matthew strangled a dark chuckle when he saw both Elizabeta and Gilbert's shoulder shake, and small sniffles coming from them.

* * *

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	3. The Melancholy Sun

The screeching sirens rolled through the soft hills of the Santa Anna range. On the deserted road, a taxi cab cut through the horizon of the cerulean sky like a zipper on a jacket. Inside, the air condition, light as a feather, exhausted a cool waft of air into the car. With the radio on, an announcer on the news continued to drone on about the impending doom occurring soon.

"-he real deal, folks. A fleet of F-22 fighter jets have failed at intercepting the missile. Expected detonation around the downtown Los Angeles area is expected to occur in the next twenty minutes. If you are not outside of a ten mile radios of the downtown area, leave immediately. Get be-."

Elizabeta twisted the volume knob to the right, and let out a long sigh as she tapped on the steering wheel.

"That reminds me of those cops that one time." A German-accented voice sliced through the vibration of the taxi.

Elizabeta looked quickly at Gilbert before turning back to the road, tumbling down it like a rolling snowball. "What reminds you of what?"

"Remember? The cops said we had five minutes to get out of their site or they'd throw us back in holding." Gilbert let out a quick cackle.

Matthew leaned on the small mountain of clothes on his suitcase, and examined the glass bong on the floor. "Gilbert, I have no idea what your talking about." He said without looking up.

Gilbert laughed and looked through the fake glass separating the car in half. "You weren't there. So, I had a hobby when we first moved down here. You see, the government has quite a few programs for the less fortunate of Los Angeles."

"Prison?" Elizabeta said.

"No. I'm talking about the Department of Family and Children Services. Remember when I said I was applying as a secretary there?"

Matthew nodded. "You said the lady there tried to sexually harass you."

"Not surprising, considering my awesome appearance." Gilbert said, making Elizabeta cough loudly. He stared at her, grinning from ear to ear.

"As I was saying before I was interrupted," Gilbert said. "I was leaving when I saw an office. Nobody was there, and I saw a tower of credit cards. You know what they were?"

Matthew shook his head. Gilbert sighed. "You know how when you go to the grocery and there's those little signs that say 'WIC'? My dear Mattie, those are called food stamps. And they go to the...less fortunate. Turns out, there not so 'less fortunate' when it comes to those bad boys, because I got a wonderfu-."

"-ly stupid idea." Elizabeta said with a smirk.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Well, I decided to take those cards, and sell them to the people of South Central. Our neighborhood isn't far from the worst of our beloved Gang Capital Of The World, and that's generally the poorest area. So rat-a-tat-tat, and before I knew it, I was making big bank."

"Then he sold one to an undercover cop and found a new home in prison."

"Holding, Lizzie. Thank you. Honestly, you were so uptight back then."

"There's still time to turn around and drop you onto the road somewhere." Elizabeta said.

Matthew snickered. "What'd I tell you about karma, Gil?"

Gilbert sighed and turned back around to face the clear windshield. "Karma's a bitch when you try to get rich." He chanted.

"So, I'm assuming Eli decided to bust you out?"

"Only because I wanted another chance at getting you two together." She said.

"Which sucks for you, because for the thousandth time, we're not bi. Besides, with you in the middle, it's not gay."

"I'm unlocking the door. Matthew, could you unlock the glass and kick Gilbert out."

"Sorry, Eli. He still owes me for the Sea World incident."

Gilbert cleared his throat. "The cops let me out after she payed the bail, and I ran home. You were passed out from one of your pity emo sessions. Thank god you grew out of that before the summer. And my family was none the wiser."

"How is Ludwig, anyway? He's always a little shy, so how's he doing in Italy?"

"Alright. He said he met some girl. Reminded him of Feliciano. It was scary how a like they look. Which proves my theory that Italians are all related. It's an incest plot over there."

Well, the first humans were in Africa, so we're all a little related." Matthew said.

"Stupid archeology class. I can't believe you want to do that for a living."

"I can't believe I haven't left you to a death from nuclear fallout, yet." Elizabeta said. Matthew laughed, and even Gilbert let out a small chuckle. The three let their nerves ease up in the sea of chaos that constricted their uneasy hearts.

Suddenly, the radio buzzed the emergency tone again. Elizabeta turned up the volume, and a robotic voice spoke through the old speakers.

"This is a warning from the Emergency Alert System. This is not a test. The impending impact of the nuclear missile towards the Los Angeles area has been reduced to the next fifteen minutes. Please find shelter immediately, and do not use cell phones unless an emergency is occurring. Am emergency would enta-."

The sound was cut off by Gilbert, who pressed the CD button. The quiet stomping of the piano of "Vienna" by Billy Joel started to fly throughout the cockpit. Surprisingly, Elizabeta didn't say a word, only increasing her speed on the deserted road in the angry brown desert. Matthew stared at the radio with his mouth agape, and tensed up slightly as the clock on the dashboard ticked one number higher.

"Lizzie, could you maybe go faster?" Gilbert asked.

"I'm already going around a hundred. This isn't a race car."

Matthew choked as he looked at Gilbert, who drummed his fingers of the dusty dashboard.

"Can we not talk about this please?" He said.

"I'm sorry, but is a nuclear holocaust to boring for you?" Elizabeta asked.

"It's not that Eli, I jus-."

"Jesus Christ," Elizabeta slammed her hands on the steering wheel. "What is wrong with you two?"

Gilbert and Matthew looked at each other as Elizabeta huffed.

"What's wrong now?" Matthew asked.

"Can't you two pick a name to call me? Do you know how annoying that is? Eli, clean these dishes. Lizzie, drive me to the Dodgers game. Eli. Lizzie. Eli. Lizzie. How many variations of my name are there left? Please, I don't care if you put it to a vote or mud wrestle over it. Just pick a name to call me, and shut up Gilbert. I mean a name that's a variation of mine." Elizabeta pointed at Gilbert, who had started to snicker.

"But...I thought you liked us calling you different names?" Matthew said quietly.

"It's nothing pers-. Actually, it is. Just decide."

"We can't. It's a law of nature that your name is said differently by different people."

"Don't start with what's natural and what's not. Only two types of people know what natural is. The people that are natural, and freaks of nature with white hair and red eyes."

Gilbert crossed his arms. "I look awesome compared to those boring blonde haired, blue eyed hipsters."

"My eyes are purple, thank you." Matthew said.

"Woe is you. Lizzie, which one of us do y-."

"God damn it. What did I just say?" Elizabeta said.

Just as Gilbert was about to open his mouth in retort, the buzzing noise shook the speaker in the cab again. The three sat in silence as the car rocketed down the lonely road in the beautiful sea of sand, sun, and clay.

"This a national emergency. The nuclear missile targeting the downtown Los Angeles is expected to detonate in the next two minutes. If you have no-."

"Are we far enough?" Matthew asked.

Elizabeta said nothing as Gilbert lowered the volume again.

"Eli, are we okay here?" Matthew asked.

"We'll be okay as far as fallout goes. We still need to get as far away."

"Can we stop for just a second? I want to see it." Gilbert said.

"You really want me to stop just you could get a selfie with the explosion?"

"Aren't you curious in what it's like? I mean, death isn't awesome by any means, but I feel like its kinda historic."

"No. We still need to ma-."

"Coyote!" Matthew shouted. He pointed out at the window. Elizabeta slammed on the break and yanked the steering wheel towards the right. Dust kicked up from the hot concrete and swirled around like ice cubes in a cup of water. However, a scowl formed on Elizabeta's face as she turned and saw the spinning world. The car lurched to a stop. Matthew bumped his head on the window, and Gilbert threw his head onto Elizabeta's shoulder.

Elizabeta brushed Gilbert off her shoulders and smacked him upside his head. "There's not coyote."

"But we stopped you, right? I think a tire is out, too. It's okay, though. There's a restaurant half a mile away." Gilbert said with a grin when he pointed to a green sign next to the road. He turned to Matthew and winked at him.

"Fine. We'll watch it. If your traumatized though, your going in the trunk." The Hungarian girl said.

The three turned their heads to look out the window. The sky stayed as magnificent as ever, stretching through the world like a large blanket protecting them from the deadly UV rays of space. The sun glared at the Earth, gloating at the peaceful desert before it was permanently scorched by the elements used to create the landscape. The ringing noise of the lizards and copperheads lounging around the scattered heatwaves snuck through the closed doors. Matthew breathed as heavy as the air outside, and Gilbert continued to drum on the heated dashboard. Elizabeta bit her fingernail, awaiting the nuclear disintegration to their home in the next few seconds.

Suddenly, the sky started to meld with the orange on the ground. A hissing noise arched through the air. Every second clung to life like the disappearing cloud searching for water. Matthew's heart was about to rip itself out of his chest, and he fell to the floor of the cab. His arms flew to his head, knocking his glasses off his face.

"Don't look." Elizabeta said as she ducked down next to her seat.

Gilbert continued to stare. The anticipation made his insides feel like they were melting. His eyes widened as started to feel a rapid vibration towards the car. Suddenly, Gilbert was yanked down by Elizabeta, choking him as his red eyes were shielded by the sight of the Hungarian woman.

Gilbert didn't need to look up to feel the enormous white light glowing from the impact zone. However, the soft roar of the hit did not occur until seconds later. It started as a soft rumble before crescendoing into a hectic static of swirling wind funneling past the cab. A small crack etched itself on the window, and a few small risk pounded onto the side of the door. Matthew clutched a bundle of shirts. Gilbert reached towards Elizabeta and threw his arm onto her head, shielding her from any possible debris. The wind howled around them as a rock kicked up from the car and broke the side mirror on the taxi.

The wind started to die down, and the bright light rivaling the sun's power faded into a mocha brown. Gilbert looked up, and saw the giant mushroom shaped cloud flooding the sky. The dust kicked up from the wind invaded the air around the, making the landscape turn into a sepia tone. Slowly, Matthew and Elizabeta raised their heads again, and looked at the large cloud over the sharp peaks of the range.

"Start up the car." Gilbert said.

Elizabeta turned the key and let the engine shake to life. She sighed when she turned the steering wheel and headed down the road. The car limped towards the right from the flat tire, and Gilbert rolled his head with it, humming while drumming his fingers.

"That sign said half a mile, right?" Matthew asked.

Gilbert nodded. The now brown taxi drive down the sand-blanketed deserted highway, leaving behind the large cloud surrounding the destruction and chaos of former Los Angeles, and their former sanctuary from the outside world.

* * *

**As always, a comment is** **very appreciated. It's fast, easy, and consider it your good deed for the day. Any constructive reviews are loved. Thank you!**


	4. Searching For The Grand Slam

The diner lay in the middle of the small parking lot off the curb of the highway. Completely separate from the small town nearby, only one car, a large white SUV rested in the handicap parking spot with the parking pass hanging on the center mirror of the car.

A taxi can slowly came into view as it hobbled down the cracked road and veered into the sand-covered parking lot, leaning onto the right as it beared down on a flat tire. It came to a halt a few feet from the door, next to the SUV.

Gilbert opened the glove compartment and pulled out a miniature baseball bat. Elizabeta gasped and yanked Gilbert's shirt collar before he opened the door. He let out a garbled choke while clutching his throat. He massaged it to ease the pain.

"What are you doing?" Elizabeta shrieked.

"Robbing the place. It's nuclear war now, so we might as well get ahead." Gilbert said.

Elizabeta smacked Gilbert on the top of his head, ruffling his white hair. "War hasn't happened yet."

"Four missiles usually means war is going down, Eli." Matthew said while straightening up in his seat.

"There are two things we need for the nuclear war. Food and Water. Now, I watched on the history channel about this, and people flock to grocery stores. Walmart, Target, K Mart, you name it. Malls, too. But guess what? People don't pay attention to the small places. The Dollar General. Local businesses. Most importantly, diners." Gilbert pointed at the door in front of him. "There's plenty of canned good in there, and money for fire."

"Burning money for fire." Matthew whispered to himself.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Money isn't a necessity at the moment, but yes. It's good to have around. So we go in, jack the stuff, get out, and steal that car next to us since it has more room. That way, Mattie doesn't get cramps and we actually have space for our luggage.

Elizabeta looked at the diner entrance. She did not know how to think of this approach. If there was only one person there like the car indicated, they would have to deal with him or her, then take the goods. Obviously, law enforcement was busy somewhere else, and with nuclear war imminent, second guessing was a thing of the past. "Alright," she said. "Let's run it out. Gilbert, you take the bat, I'll get the small frying pan."

"Open the trunk?" Gilbert asked. Elizabeta pushed up on a small lever by her knees, letting the trunk spring open as a couple of tee shirts flopped onto the pavement. Gilbert hopped out of the car.

"What should I do?" Matthew asked silently.

"You, my dear Matthew, get the gun." Elizabeta reached underneath the frying pan and handed Matthew the small .22 caliber pistol. Matthew gasped when Elizabeta threw it at him.

"That's a gun." He said in a scared tone.

"Please. The safety is on. Now turn it off so you could help us." Elizabeta turned off the car and leapt out after thrusting the door open. She slammed it closed, leaving Matthew to contemplate the situation. Sure, things changed drastically over the past few hours, but was he prepared to kill to survive? He didn't even think Elizabeta and Gilbert were ready, either. They were simply acting tough. That being said, if they decided to jump off a bridge, he would do it as well. If they were going down, they expected him to go down with them like any true best friend. Matthew left the car, and the three met at the front of the mirror doors.

"Matthew, would you please shoot the lock?" Elizabeta asked.

Matthew's eyes widened. "How do you know it's locked?" He stammered.

"It's the apocalypse. Doors are gonna be locked." Gilbert said.

"It's not the apocalypse yet." Matthew murmured to himself. He took his gun and clicked off the safety. He took both hands and threw them out in front of him, closing his eyes will the gun trembled like the tectonic plates underneath California.

"Dummkopf. You can't shoot blind." Gilbert said. No sooner had the words escaped his mouth when Matthew pulled the trigger and shot the keyhole on the door. The three stared at each other, and Gilbert took his bat to prod the door. Sure enough, the door opened. "Your badass deed of the day, Mattie. Good job." Gilbert said. The three walked through the small walkway into the diner.

The dinner had a small counter in the front with faded green stools. To the left of the front counter was an ocean of red booths, reminding Matthew of the Vargas cafe. The walls had beige wallpaper on them, and a few ornate paintings of sailboats donned the spots above the tables by the vertical surfaces. There was a fan frozen in place above the large dining room, and a small walkway to an arcade and bathroom stretched next to the kitchen's swinging entrance.

Gilbert pointed at the cash register at the far end of the counter. Elizabeta started to walk towards the kitchen. Matthew caught Gilbert's gaze and nodded at him, turning towards the entrance and planting himself in front like the plastic ferns around the double doors.

Elizabeta walked slowly into the kitchen, putting her toes on the ground before letting her heel hit the floor. It was a trick she learned during a self-defense class in eight grade. She terrorized Gilbert and Matthew all that year by sneaking up on them, and using a voice changer to convince them that they were being mugged. Elizabeta smirked at the memory, then grinned as she saw the pantry at the back of the kitchen, practically overflowing with canned goods. She walked over a broken plate, and rounded a deep silver sink. A bag of flour was torn next to the pantry and covered the floor in the cooking substance.

Right when she reached the corner of the pantry, she was tackled. She grunted when she hit the phone on the wall. However, she quickly recovered and squeezed her grip on the steel pan. She swung it horizontally, and it skimmed her assailant's scalp. The figure shouted out in pain and started to run out the kitchen.

Matthew heard the commotion and ran towards the kitchen. Just as he reached the counter, the attacker bursted out the door. She was just about to collide with Matthew when he pointed the gun right at the head.

The girl in front of him stopped and raised her hands in the air. She was of average height for a female. Shoulder length black hair draped over her head with red streaks shimmering down on them. She was thin, and a little ragged in her white button down outfit. Her green eyes shifted around like a frightened mouse, and she breathed like she had run a mile.

"Who's this little urchin?" Gilbert asked.

"Her name tag says Luna," Matthew said. "Are you a waitress here?"

Luna stayed silent. Gilbert rolled his eyes and hit the counter with his bat, causing the loud noise to echo throughout the diner. Luna flinched and turned towards Gilbert. "Are you a waitress here?"

"I was. Today's my second day as a manager." She said in a soft voice.

Elizabeta came from behind her and wrapped her her frame into her strong arms. "Why'd you hide from us?"

"I heard a gunshot. You'd hide, too." Luna said.

"Can you open this register?" Gilbert asked. Luna nodded. Elizabeta let her go, and Luna gingerly walked towards the register. She pressed a few buttons, and the bottom slot full of cash shot out. Gilbert grinned as he started to push some into his jean pockets.

"Is that your car?" Elizabeta pointed to the large SUV next to the cab. Luna nodded.

"Give is your keys." Gilbert said.

"No." Luna said as she crossed her arms.

Gilbert sputtered. "What do you mean no? Make this easy for us lady. That little taxi won't cut it anymore."

"That car took me right months to get, and I'm not letting it go." Luna said.

"What'll stop us from just offing you and taking the keys?" Gilbert said.

"Gil, please. Just relax." Matthew said when a bead of sweat trickled down from his hair line.

"You don't know where keys are. Beside, you wouldn't shoot a girl like me, right?" Luna asked.

"What? A girl like you is bulletproof?" Gilbert asked with a chuckle.

"No. I'm just saying that maybe I have something to offer to you," Luna turned and started to walk towards Gilbert, sauntering with her hands on her hips. "I could be a good asset."

Gilbert stared at her. He rested his elbow on the counter. "A-are you hiting on me, Lady?"

"Are you hitting on him?" Matthew and Elizabeta asked simultaneously. Matthew kept the gun pointed at her. He saw from the corner of his eye the fuming figure of Elizabeta. She rushed over to Luna and wrapped her arms around her again, imprisoning her arms. She swung Luna like a broom and faced Matthew.

"You can shoot now, Matthew." Elizabeta said. Luna's eyes widened and she punched her shoulders through the air. She tried to wrestle away Elizabeta's iron grip, to no avail.

"Lizzie, I am mutually taken by you and Matthew. You don't have to worry about this frau. She's a little too skinny for me anyway."

Luna stopped struggling. "Excuse you, but this is attractive. At least in Vegas."

"Shut up. Matthew, do the honors." Elizabeta said.

"Wait. You need a car? I can drive you." Luna said quickly. Gilbert looked at her as he piled more money into his jeans.

"You don't even know where we're going, Frau." He said.

"We do-." Elizabeta started.

"You can drive us to Canada?"

Gilbert and Elizabeta glared daggers at Matthew. His grip loosened on the gun and he shifted his violet eyes back and forth between the cashier and Luna. "It'll probably be safer in Canada. With...the apocalypse an all."

"What makes you think there's an apocalypse? Aren't you overreacting?" Luna asked.

Elizabeta let her go and spun her around, clutching Luna's shoulders.

"Woman! Did you not see the cloud outside. There's three more heading towards the country. This is a war now. Unless we get a move on, we'll probably get stuck with some army brat telling us when to take a shit."

"Language, Lizzie." Gilbert said.

"And what's this about Canada, Matthew?" Elizabeta asked as she waved her flying pan towards Matthew, who lowered his gun.

"I was going to say Australia, but Canada's closer. I have a cousin whose French up by Toronto. He owns a small aerial field far up north. I thought that maybe he could help us out."

The people in the diner sat in silence.

"He flies private jets." Matthew added.

Elizabeta pushed Luna away from her and walked towards Gilbert. "Any better ideas?"

Gilbert shook his head. "I was just gonna head to Nebraska."

Elizabeta was taken aback. "What the hell is in Nebraska?"

"What isn't in Nebraska? Nuclear plants. If there's any place that's safe, it's there."

"Or Canada, considering we're not a dick country." Matthew said.

"Good thing none of us are U.S citizens citizens." Gilbert said.

"Gil, I thought you became one a month ago." Elizabeta said.

"Nah. I was betting on horses. How'd you think I afforded the tv?"

Luna waved her arms and walked towards the the counter. "You guys didn't even have a plan until now. You just said 'Oops. Nuclear missile happened. Better go and rob the diner. Now let's jack a car. By the way, let's kidnap this girl. Then we can all go to Nebraska and live happily ever after. Oh, wait! The nuclear fallout is spreading. So now we have to go to Canada to see the French pilot.' You're all a bunch of idiots. Now are you going to make me drive or not?"

Gilbert closed the cash register and walked up to Luna. He looked down at her and took in her shorter frame. He was completely lost now. This girl was offering herself up, and she would drag them toward wherever they wanted. After all, the taxi was all but totaled, and he could take a few snoozes before having to deal with ransacking another poor souls establish. The girl herself didn't seem that bad. Maybe in between Elizabeta's strong will and Matthew's shyness was a place for the sardonic girl. However, he felt unsure about making this decision alone.

Alright Luna. Rock Paper Scissors. I win, you follow the awesome wagon to...I guess Canada now. You win...you're free to wilt away wherever. Two out of three. Ready?"

Luna rolled her eyes. "Alright. Just so you know. I had a thirty seven game streak in middle school."

"Thirty seven? That's a lot of losses. I'm surprised you didn't give up?"

Gilbert and Luna threw their clenched fists out, ready to do battle.

* * *

"Come, chauffeur! Toronto awaits."

Luna dug her hand into her pockets to stop herself from slapping her own face.

* * *

**Special thanks to Rexlover180 for reviewing and for submitting her very own OC. I suggest everybody goes over and review her good work of art. Like Voldemort, I reward all my loyal supporters. Keep the reviews up. It's fast and easy. No reason not to Review! Thank you!**


	5. Quick Stop At Luna's House

The white can turned onto the quiet road. It drive past a few white houses before coming across the fourth cookie-cutter on the right. The van lurched to the curb, and crushed the small weeds poking through the cracks of the street edge. Luna turned off the car and walked out. The other three passengers of the car left with her.

Luna turned around. She examined the trio in front of her. She threw her hands up. "Why are you following me?"

"We talked it over, and we're hungry." Gilbert spoke up.

"Eat one of the cans." She said.

"We don't want to waste it. It's not like your coming home for a while. We'll just have some sandwiches." Elizabeta said.

Luna groaned and power walked to the oak door. The three people walked behind her as she unlocked the door. It was a cramped one floor building. There was laminated white tile on the floor, and a few honeysuckle candles were placed around a glass bowl of green marbles on the square red table. A mini fridge rested on top of a long counter connected to the baby blue walls. The large windows in the big room illuminated the space into a warm sunspot.

"Can one of you jokers help me out? There's some things that are to high for me to reach."

Matthew nodded his head and followed Luna. They turned the corner and walked down the hallway with yellow walls. Elizabeta stood and looked around the room. Gilbert marched towards the mini fridge and grinned as he saw a stick of salami inside the cool incubator. He walked over to the counter were a half loaf of bread was placed. Elizabeta walked over next to him.

"I'll have mine with a margarita and a twisted lemon." Elizabeta said.

Gilbert laughed. "High class living is in your blood, isn't it."

"We weren't called the blood of Hungary for nothing."

"Stupid. That doesn't make any sense." Gilbert said. He took out two slices of white bread and started to tear off pieces of pink meat from the stick of salami.

"Are you worried, Gil?"

"Are you gonna use some mayo?" Gilbert asked as he looked in the fridge again.

"Stop it. I know you're scared shitless." Elizabeta said.

Gilbert looked back up at her. "Lizzie, there's only been two times I've been scared shitless, and we both know what those were."

Elizabeta nodded. "When I was sixteen, and when your b-."

"Let's not talk about it. What do you think of that new girl?" Gilbert said with his mouthful of food.

"Diversion doesn't work with me, Prussian."

"You say 'Prussian' like it isn't the most awesome thing someone could be."

"Canadians are way cooler than Germans." Elizabeta said with a mischievous smile.

"It's Prussian. Not German."

"I bet that girl would disagree. Or any sane person for that matter."

"What would she know? Those eyes are probably fake." He said.

"Because red is so much more natural." Elizabeta said while rolling her eyes.

"At least she's honest. One of those people that goes with the flow, even if they don't want to. That being said, I hate meeting people."

"Why? You've never said that before." She said.

"Never bothered with it. All the people at work hate me. Only reason those hood rats at that bar by Staples Center like me is because I quote unquote, 'look cool'. Do you know what that's like? Only being noticed for looks."

Elizabeta took a piece of bread and tore some salami. "Guess you're not making me one?"

"You're a big girl. You can handle it."

"But yes, I know what it's like. Honestly, I think that's the only reason you came up to me when I moved to Toronto."

"That, and when you kicked Austrian ass on the playground."

"Roderich might have been nicer if you didn't spray paint his toy truck pink." Elizabeta said with her mouth full.

"I never did that." He said.

The two ate their sandwiches in silence.

"It's okay, Gilbert. I'm worried, too."

* * *

The giant red suitcase flew onto the twin-sized bed. Luna opened the fold-in thin doors and walked into her closet, cluttered with slightly torn jeans and mouth balls buried underneath folded t-shirts. The sunlight peeked through the bamboo blinds on the square window while the fan above swirled around the air like a milkshake in a blender.

Matthew stood in silence as Luna threw some clothes into the case. He fidgeted around in place. Luna shuffled through some wire hangers and made a rattling noise in the closet.

Matthew had never been very good with conversation. It's not that he was a strong, silent type. He tried to speak to people, but he found that his meek voice was not easily carried through the hustle and bustle of the urban Los Angeles area. He also couldn't help but be a little anxious in large crowds. If it wasn't for Elizabeta and Gilbert dragging him around places, he probably wouldn't have even made as much progress as he had. Unfortunately, he had to deal with a new face, and with the impending nuclear apocalypse in sight, his nerves were tighter than the spring could underneath Luna's tangerine mattress.

"The house is very colorful." Matthew said.

Luna kept putting clothes in the pile. "It was like this before. I was gonna change it to chestnut, but I'm too lazy."

"I always liked red on walls. It lights places up."

"Like you do every night?" Luna asked.

Matthew was taken aback. "I don't get it. What?"

"That bong in the backseat. You had your hand on it, so I'm assuming it's yours." She said.

Matthew stammered. "I just need to relax once in a while. My life is stressful."

"I bet those two don't help. With this impending war, everyone is probably on pins and needles" anyway." Luna said.

"They're not that bad. We actually all live together." He said.

Luna stopped packing, put her hands on her hips, and took a loud breath. "You think living with them is so great for you? You go in there and you get locked out, so you have to sneak in through the back. Then, you find out the cops are there because someone decided to whore herself out to a whole bunch of guys that I had to deal with."

"She was a prostitute?" Matthew asked.

"That's all roommates do. They're practically leeches. No thank you, no I'm sorry, no nothing. Why do you think I'm here? The fact that there was guys' sperm encrusted on the wall? Or the fact that the landlord kicked me out? Here, I'm all by myself in my own house, and I'm just fine."

"You don't have to be mad. They really are better than you think." Matthew said. He out his hand in Luna's shoulder, making her flinch slightly.

"Sure. That annoying girl and whipped albino will be a joy around."

Matthew put his hand down. "Eli is really headstrong, but she cares a lot about others. Gilbert is really rough around the edges, but he means well."

"Do they smoke or something, too? Because I want to know when I need to use my gas mask. Just go ahead and air out the dirty laundry i need to know." Luna asked.

"That's actually what I want to talk about. Gilbert didn't have the greatest childhood. I mean, his house looked nice, and he had money, but the people around him weren't exactly great, Especially towards high school. Ever since then, Gilbert has been a little more...self-absorbed. I think it's his way of coping. If he starts annoying you, just remember that it's not you. You'll warm up to him. He's an acquired taste."

"I'm sure I'll warm up to all of you at some point. Now help me get that crate of Combo's up their."

Matthew smiled as he walked towards the closet. "You like Combo's, too? My favorite is peanut butter."

"Wow. I may have warmed up to you already." Luna said.

* * *

Alright, warriors. Let's get out of this hell-hole." Gilbert said.

"This hell-house is my house, idiot." Luna said as she rolled her bag over the threshold of the door onto the wet grass towards the van. Gilbert stood by the doorway, snickering.

"Was. That tin can called a van is your new home." Gilbert pointed to the automobile.

"We need to hurry so I can hear the news. This place may be glass in a couple of days." Elizabeta said as she opened the door for Luna, who flung her bag into the van before piling in with Matthew.

"What does that mean?" Gilbert asked. He walked over to Elizabeta.

She rolled her eyes. "How do you make glass?"

Gilbert paused for a moment. "Isn't glass it's own element."

"What happens when sand is mixed with heat and pressure?"

"Sex on a beach? Lizzie, are you suggestion something?" Gilbert said.

Elizabeta playfully shoved him back. "No wonder you got a C in that class. Let's go, Teutonic wannabe."


	6. The Edge Of Up And Down

The large van was more like an old minibus. It was a stark white with sliding doors on the side. The air conditioning unit was buzzing cool air through the open vents surrounding the inside, and the neon green radio system was set on the satellite stations, where emcees and disc jockeys traded their records for microphones to anchors and reporters on this tumultuous day.

Gilbert had started to get a small headache, and he leaned his head onto the cool window pane. The desert landscape of cacti and sun-burnt sand rolled past his sight like a stone skipping on a lake. His eyes were half-lidded while reaching blindly for the radio. He turned the dial =, whcih lowered the volume.

"Dude, that's my radio." Luna said in the driver's seat. It was yet down to another round of rock-paper-scissors that led her to driving. She would have been fine with it either way. It was her van, after all. She must admit that, if it wasn't for these kidnapping individuals, she would probably be a lot more scared than she let on. However, before she could process the nuclear disaster happing not one hundred miles away, these three losers dragged her to escape. At least she knew ehere they were going. And who knows, maybe Canada is the best plan anyway. It's not like she has anyone to worry about.

"I know that. That's why I changed it. I'm tired of hearing this news."

"It's on every station, you know."

Gilbert turned to her and growled. "That's the problem. Nothing is changing, yet they keep going on and on. It's not like we'll learn anything new. And even if we do, we're in the middle of nowhere."

"Why are you yelling?" Luna asked.

Gilbert sighed. "Okay, I'm not feeling so awesome right now. I might as well get to know you."

"Yes, Luna. We need to know who we are giving the honor of being our chauffeur." Elizabeta said as she sipped on a juice box.

"And you say you're not conceited, Eli." Matthew said with a small grin.

"Where are you from, Luna?" Gilbert asked.

Luna paused. She locked her gaze on the road, scanning the empty road for the tumbleweeds and bird carcasses littered on the edge of cement and wilderness. "Orlando. I lived there all my life until I moved to L.A." She said.

"Why'd you move down there?" Elizabeta asked.

"After I graduated, my parents wanted me to be a surgeon or some shit. They wanted me to go to Florida State. I said no, and ran off to L.A."

"To do what?" Gilbert asked.

"An actress. I worked as a waitress for a while, though."

"You and everyone else in that place." Gilbert said.

"I was kidding. I wanted to be a tattoo artist. I ended up a waitress, anyway."

"Of course you'd want to be a tattoo artist." He said.

Luna scrunched her eyebrows together and flared her nostrils. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"Those streaks in your hair. Your green eyes. Are those even real?"

"I don't know. Is anything about you real?"

"Don't get meta with me. That's Matthew's job, and only when he's high."

Matthew choked on the banana he was eating. He raised the back of his seat and lurched forward. "You guys are making me out to be a drug dealer. I'm not like that, Luna," He said.

"Relax. I don't believe a thing this poser says."

Gilbert laughed. "Poser? What are you, sixteen? Next, you'll tell me you're some goth or hipster."

"Only hipsters wear red contacts."

Gilbert's grin disappeared into the air like the cool stream pouring from the vents. "This is all natural."

"Whatever. Anyway what are you're stories?"

"We weren't done with you," Elizabeta said. "How'd you end up in that little tow-."

"Actually, guys. I'm sure it's nothing. Couldn't stand the smog." Matthew said quickly. Gilbert narrowed his eyes as Luna nodded her head.

"Fine. We'll let it slid. So, I lived in Prussia for a few years. When I was in-."

"Wait. Prussia? Prussia was officially disbanded by 1947."

Gilbert sighed in annoyance. "I think I would now, thank you. I'm Prussian, alright? Not German. Prussian. So, I moved to Toronto, and I moved next door to some dorky kid."

"I wasn't all that dork-."

"Calm down, I'll get to your awesome parts in a second. So, I tried talking to this guy, but he spoke like two words a minute. You see, my house was full-blooded German of some kind. We aren't very subtle people, so I was actually drawn in with how quiet he was. I guess when I spent time with him, I could let my ears rest and actually listen instead of hearing, or some shit like that. It's so weird, how we actually became the bestest friends in the whole world, but me and my pet bird were joined at the hip."

"Very funny, Gilbert. Didn't your bird fly off two days after you moved in?" Matthew said with a smirk.

"He went to hibernate." Gilbert said.

"Which is why you climbed onto my roof and looked in the chimney."

Gilbert took a long breath. His nerves were about shot. The small chatter on the radio further complicated the atmosphere in the van. "So, me and...Matthew became close. We did everything together. I was kind of the spokesman for him, and he always roped me in during crazy times."

"What were 'crazy times'?" Luna asked, rolling her green eyes.

"Unimportant. I guess you could say I was the brawn and he was the brain. So, two years later, we were hanging around at this park, when this angelic girl walked by us. We were so shocked, we didn't know how to respond."

"You wolf-whistled at me. Matthew looked like he ate a pepper from how red his face was." Elizabeta said with a quick giggle.

"So, we were going to follow her around, but then, she ran across...him."

"Roderich. He was an Austrian, and he was a civilized, thoughtful artist." Elizabeta said, shouting the last part of the sentence for emphasis.

"Me and Matthew were going to save her, but Roderich didn't want to share his toy truck and threw sand at her. One of the happiest moments of my life was when she laid Roderich out in one punch."

"The EMT's were called. It took ten minutes for him to gain consciousness." Elizabeta said.

"So, she needed an escape or she'd get in trouble. We decided to take initiative and dragged her with us to Matthew's house. She yelled at us for a while, but then she was glad that she was finally safe, which is how she got tired and ended up falling asleep in between us."

Elizabeta groaned and hid her face in the leather armrest next to her. "I was tired from the flight to Toronto. I still didn't adjust to your stupid time zones, Matt."

Matthew rubbed his hand on her back. "It's okay. You got use to L.A. time a lot faster."

"Anyway," Gilbert said loudly, making Luna flinch. "The rest is history. Me and Matthew grew up into lean, mean, sexy machines. Wow. That rhymed. Matthew, remind me to put that on a t-shirt. Lizzie grew up into a Hungarian goddess. So, it was natural that we stuck together. Guys were all over Lizzie, and some people dared to bully Matthew."

"Gil, could you please not mention that?" Matthew asked softly.

"It's fine, Matthew. You're masculinity is not being questioned by me. Continue." Luna said.

"And I was blacklisted from everywhere because I was too awesome."

"Read: obnoxious." Elizabeta said in a muffled voice.

"So we kinda needed each other to fight the unawesomeness around us. Before you knew it, there were threesomes every other night in my room."

Matthew blushed while Elizabeta laughed. "Between who? You, your bird, and Roderich?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "She always thought me and Matthew were bi. In her mind, she set us up with pretty much every guy at that godforsaken high school. Especially Roderich."

Elizabeta leaned forwards and looked up at Luna. "It's true. I bet you and Matthew have done plenty of things together."

"Only if you were in the middle."

"Shut up, Gilbert." Matthew said, trying to hide his tomato-red face from the rest of the people in the van.

"Well, that's us in a nutshell. Lizzie's getting a degree in rocks or something, Matthew's a closet drug dealer, and I'm...uh..."

The van froze in silence.

"Whatever. You get the idea. Can we stop at this gas station? We've been going for two hours. I need to move my legs."

"Looks like there's people over there already. Maybe humanity does have hope." Luna said. She moved the steering wheel to the right, letting the car zoom across the ink-black road and lurching towards the large gas station with an unlit neon sign of the QuikTrip. The van crossed to one of the pumps, and parked next to a small brown sedan. Luna scrunched her face when she saw the view in front of her. There was a man in front of the cashier, and he seemed to be shaking a large knife in front of him. The bald, black man behind the register piled money into a white sack behind the rack of sports magazines obscuring their legs.

"Maybe there isn't hope. You guys up to being hypocrites?"

"Why? What's happening?" Elizabeta asked.

"Oh, I don't know. He's only waving a knife and shouting. Maybe their playing Candy Land," Luna said.

The group sat in the van, letting the scene unfold. Luna turned the car off. She fumbled with the center compartment underneath the driver seat armrest and pulled out a can of mace.

"How long have you had that?" Gilbert freaked out.

"A while. This is the good shit, too. The ones they got in prison." Luna opened the door, making the dinging of the alarm in the car come to life as the lights flicked on.

"Fine, we'll come, too." Matthew said before Luna slammed the door.

"Since when did we vote you leader of the van, Mattie?" Elizabeta said with a scowl.

Matthew shrugged and took a shaky hand towards the bag behind his chair. He unzipped it, so he could pull out the small pistol and exited the van. Gilbert watched the two head towards the glass doors of the convenience store. He looked back at Elizabeta, slightly unsure of what was unfolding before him. Suddenly, Elizabeta raised an eyebrow, and Gilbert nodded his head. Elizabeta reached below her seat and pulled out a frying pan before running towards the other two. Gilbert couldn't help but smirk at the bad-ass scene occurring as he snapped out his baseball bat and kicked open the door of the marble-white van into the thick heat of the sunny afternoon.

* * *

**That's what I have for now. ****I am offering you the chance TO HAVE YOUR VERY OWN ORIGINAL CHARACTER. That's right, your OC can be in the story. He/She will have a major role, but the fate of such character will be determined**.

Name:

Age:

Gender:

Height:

Weight:

Appearance:

Personality:

Likes:

Dislikes:

History:

Profession (if any):

Thank you


	7. Gas Station Gallup

When Luna kicked the glass door open to enter the modest convenience store, she lowered her mace and sighed.

A girl with Long blonde hair with green, blue, pink streaks turned around with a penknife in hand. She had on black skinny jeans, a copper button up with a black tank top underneath. Her ice blue eyes widened as she breathed like she had run a mile.

Just then, the other three drove into the store. Gilbert ran in so fast that he crashed into a tower of chips, causing it to fall onto the floor in front of the magazine rack. Elizabeta hoisted her black frying pan onto her broad shoulder. Matthew had his gun tilted on its side. His eyes shifted around the shop and saw that the store was empty save for them.

"Kid, where's your parents?" Gilbert asked, rolling his red eyes.

"Don't get any closer. I'll kill him." The girl said while pointing the penknife at the cashier who had his shaking hands above his head.

"Are you even old enough to drive?" Luna asked.

"That's my car out there." The girl pointed out the window.

"Honey, just go home so you can evacuate." Elizabeta said.

"Could you please leave? We won't hurt you." Matthew said while adjusting his glasses with his free hand.

The girl trembled a little more. She turned her head towards the man, who raised his eyebrows at her. The girl turned back to the group. Suddenly, the man yelled. He thrusted his hands towards the girl and yanked her arms back. He shunted the knife away from her, causing her to shout out. The man pushed her to the ground.

"Get outta my store." He said.

The girl started to bolt for the door like a scared iguana. However, the group was a brick wall that would not break.

"Where are your parents, little girl?" Gilbert asked.

"Leave me alone. Why do you care?" The girl said. She suddenly roared and charged at the group. Skidding over the coffee-stained tile floor, she was on a collision course for Matthew.

Matthew, in his nervous spasm, shouted out as he twirled on his sneakers around, his arms flaming like an unbalanced flamenco dancer. However, he forgot to check one of his hands which was gripping the firearm. When he spun around, he clunked the butt of the gun with the hard forehead of the girl. She let out a quick cry before collapsing onto the floor, sprawled out like a squashed spider.

The group looked down at her. They closed in around the girls limp and pale body. Luna looked up at Matthew.

"Shit. She may not wake up."

Matthew jerked backwards and bumped into the stand of chips. "She's fine. We just need to wake her up."

"So should we use the hot coffee or boiling water?" Luna asked.

"I vote coffee." The man behind the register said.

"Shut up, turkey. Who gets held up with a pen knife?" Gilbert asked with a frown.

The gang continued to stare around the girl, letting the blinding light from the ceiling rain down upon her unmoving corpse.

* * *

**I must apologize for the small chapter. However, one scene per chapter is a nice rule of thumb. Please review. It's so easy and effective. There's no** **reason not to**!


	8. Small Bridge Of Peace

Matthew was quite shaken up from the past few hours. After escaping the tough city of Los Angeles, he had a knot in his back that would not go away. Instead, it grew within his spine. It enveloped his nerves, and he could not shake away the feeling of impending doom. It was a feeling that most people were having right now. Sitting on the ripped fabric of the old van, he fingered the fuzzy armrest underneath the window, letting the fog from his breath coat the glass. The tan desert passed by them like the burning effects of time on the long day. Only the distant mountains obscuring the setting sun and the cacti dotting the hot backdrop was visible around them. The scent of civilization was far gone, disappearing underneath the deadly haze of nuclear fallout.

Elizabeta had her head rested on Gilbert's shoulder. She had her eyes closed and her arms were dangling at her side. Gilbert had a bored expression on his face. In actuality, his mind was racing. Sure, they were safe at the moment, and maybe they would be able to reach a safe place to relax. However, he did not know what his next move would be. His only inkling of thought came to a hotel of some sort. Beyond that, he still could not believe just how quickly his life had imploded on itself, like a star dying in space. He turned to Elizabeta, and flicked her ear. She lifted her head up, an incensed look on her face.

"What was that for?" Elizabeta asked.

"For killing that girl at the gas station." Gilbert said.

"I didn't kill her. She shouldn't have died from that, anyway. She was just some angsty teen who wouldn't have gone anywhere," she said. "That being said, I do feel kind of bad."

Matthew turned towards the backseats, his face flushed in exasperation. "Why are you two so calm about this. She died in front of us."

"It's not like we new her. Anyway, it's a dog-eat-dog world now. We have to make some sacrifices. And our first one was her," Gilbert said. "By the way, could you pass me the Coke?"

Matthew sighed. Maybe he should not try to care so much, either. After all, the more important people around him were okay for now, along with the chauffeur. Since his parents were gone, and an other family on the other side of Canada, he did not feel particularly worried about them. Instead, questions ran through his mind like the world around the zooming van. So many decisions that could change their fate in a matter of seconds.

Or maybe he was overthinking all of it. He reached down and pulled out a cool can of soda. Matthew tossed it to Gilbert.

"Are we n Nevada, yet?" Gilbert asked.

"You're not very good with geography, are you?" Luna asked, keeping her head low and pointed at the road in front of her.

"He got a C in that class. Like any other class." Elizabeta said with a smirk.

Gilbert pretended to be hurt. "Hey, I did good in History."

"European History. And the only reason is because I was in there."

"Thats a lie. I flirted with you that whole class."

"Remember that project in that class? The one about the Berlin Wall?"

"The only project I actually cared about in high school. It was glorious."

"No shit," Luna said, raising her head towards the mirror above to meet her gaze at Elizabeta and Gilbert. "I did the Berlin Wall for World History."

"Small world," Matthew said.

Luna raised an eyebrow. "What about you, Heisenburg? What was high school like?"

Matthew sighed. "For starters, there was some bullying. I used to be more self-conscious than I am now."

"More neurotic, too." Gilbert said.

"I wasn't neurotic. Just anxious around others."

"What about that vegetarian phase?" Elizabeta asked.

"What about it? That was for hockey."

"You played hockey?" Luna asked.

Matthew nodded. "Number thirty one. Gil tried hockey for about a week."

"Then he ran into me like a bull and knocked me into a coma." Gilbert said after rolling his eyes.

"He may not see like it, but Mattie goes crazy on the ice."

After I scored the overtime goal in the finals, no one bothered me. That, and Gilbert decided to as he said 'finish business' with others."

"Get it. Because he was Finnish." Gilbert said.

"You guys didn't have many American friends, did you?" Luna asked.

"Of course not. Gil only had Mexicans around him. My boss was from Israel, and Matthew...actually, h did deal with Americans a lot."

"You know, they say Canadians are just Americans with weird city names."

"How could you say that? We have a whole different culture." Matthew said in a shaky tone.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I've done some thinking, and we need to stop some place. I think I have an idea."

"You want to tell us this brilliant idea?" Luna asked.

"Nein. First, I want to sleep on it."

"Your idea is so special that you need a whole night to think it over?" Elizabeta asked.

"Absolutely. I just have to make a call. Hopefully, the phone lines aren't clogged up."


End file.
